Live :: FiLTH

by Austin Wed Oct 25, 2017 12:56 pm

The vertically filmed shot opens up on Shane Scott lounging in what appears to be a fine leather recliner. Cracking his neck, Shane suddenly sits up as the chair comes with him, revealing his location to be a car (and from the looks of it, a nice one.) It's hard to tell, however, as with only the pale blue light from his cellphone screen illuminating Shane's features, the immediate area around him seems even darker. Tapping a finger to adjust the focus, he is revealed to be in the passenger seat, the streetlights zooming passed as the vehicle tears down the highway. The orange-tinted lights cast flickering shadows across Scott's face, the occasional beam catching the green bottle in the cupholder at the edge of the frame.

Shane Scott
"Jay Davis can't keep my name out his testicle fragranced mouth, and I ain't the least bit surprised. He can drone on and on and on about me, always comin' back to the same old story. 'Boo hoo, Shane Scott is mean! He's dirtyyyy! He gave my wife herpeeees.' Wah, wah, wah, on and on it goes. I guess he just can't grasp the simplest of ideas, that thick skull of his is only good for cookin' up more half-baked ideas for his self-image. Jay, buddy, you're not saying anything people already don't know, because I told them when I got here.

Yes, I'm a baaaad boy. I'm a rat, I'm a snake, I'm a crow. And in my new leather jacket, I'm somebody else, baby. I'm not the rat bastard without a dime to his name I was when I first walked through those doors, some trash blown in from a gust of wayward wind, not anymore. Money ain't no object, I can buy everything I need and more, ya' dig? But it ain't ever been about the money. I was fine eatin' dirt and scroungin' for whatever I had. I was coolin' knowing I was on my grind and I was gettin' ever closer to where I wanted to be: here, in CMV, a star for generations to come. I did that on my own damn merit. Guys like Jay "Damn, What Gimmick Is It Today" Davis could never understand what it means to be true blue and never trade a shade for success. The only thing that's changed has been the color of my pockets. I'm the same snakey backstabbin' scoundrel I've always been, and I'm still damn proud of it. I never changed up to bring attention my way; I never felt the need to try and be someone else. I've always been me. You can love me, you can hate me, you can throw whatever trope you want my way, but I am undeniably me. I'm here because of it.

And Jay, can we just be honest for a second? Everybody knows why you keep blathering on about me. For the first time in your entire career here in CMV, during the build-up to our match, people were aware of you. For the very first time, you were... oh dear, dare I say it? Relevant. You were, of course, the supporting character to my lead role, but still. People noticed you. And you just ate that up, and you'll do anything to get just a lil' taste of it again. I hate to break this to you though, bud, but I ain't your goddamn meal ticket. I'm on a different wave than you, and you're not cashin' in on my ride to the breakfast of champions... real champions, I should specify, not that Dollar Tree belt you're clinging to like ya' mother's tit.

I could go on for days picking you apart, Jay, I really could. I could talk about how no serious competitor in this industry subscribes to the idea of, 'Multiple 4 or 5 Star Matches!!!' I could tell you that by even saying that aloud, you reveal yourself to be an intolerable mark. I could even say that your inability to be the same person from one week to the next shows just how weak your character is. But I won't. Because that much is obvious.

What I will say is that this jawin' back and forth is over with. Tally the points up and you'll see what everyone else has known from the beginning: I gifted you a giant L. Accept it, move on with your life. Find someone else to leech off of, for Christ's sake."

Shane turns the camera to the driver's seat, where Jacob Ziegler sits. With one arm draped over the steering wheel and barely containing his laughter, Ziegler raises his free hand with thumb and index finger extended in an L-formation as the feed cuts.